


Play Me Like an Instrument

by Moria



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moria/pseuds/Moria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maglor can undo Gildor without laying one finger on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Me Like an Instrument

**Author's Note:**

> For the "teasing" square.

Fingers sleeked with oil rubbed down the length of the harp, a white cloth following, bringing the shine back to the glossy surface of the instrument. Gildor could not keep his eyes off Maglor’s hands, how the oil trickled down the skillful fingers, reminding him of the many times his own seed coated his beloved’s hand. 

Maglor met his gaze, his expression impassive. His servants walked to and forth from the recreational room in careful manner as not to disturb Maglor their lord and his husband. Suddenly a wicked grin appeared on Maglor’s face, his gaze on Gildor darkening, and Gildor knew what the message behind them was. He had Gildor under his power, and he would destroy him by the day’s end. 

Knowing how wicked Maglor could be, Gildor tried to look away, but Maglor’s hands drew him back, bringing back memories of just last night, kissing his knuckles as Maglor rested on his stomach, blanketed by Gildor’s form above him. 

The slick fingers curled over a corner, and taking note of Gildor’s eyes on him, Maglor slipped his fingers around and inward, away from Gildor’s sight. From his perception the act invoked another memory, fingers working deeper inside him. Maglor grinned as the action stirred the desired reaction from the other elf. 

The tip of a wet tongue slipped out, curled upward, and Gildor could almost feel again the tongue against him, tracing a trail down his stomach or lapping against the slit of his cock, the same tongue which tasted of him when he brought Maglor’s head back to kiss him. Maglor did not glance at him but his oiled hand slowly stroked the length of the harp as the other hand rubbed the finish clean. Enjoying the sheen and the faint scent from the oil, a pleasurable little moan - tiny, soft, pleasing to Gildor’s ear - purred out of his lips. 

Done with the surface, his attention next turned to calibrating each string. Long fingers traced each of the strings, barely touching them, just as his fingers would ghost over Gildor’s arm and chest, wanting to caress but mercilessly holding back. After adjusting one tuning pin with the same motion he would use while playing with Gildor’s nipples, he plucked the string, pausing to listen to the sound, and softly gasped out, “Yes!” under his breath. 

The flush in Gildor’s cheeks grew more red as he adjusted the manner in which he sat on the ground, remembering the puffs of breath against his skin, the tiny delighted cries as he thrust deeper into his beloved, leaving him withering in Gildor’s arms. Every bit of his soul would pour into Maglor, all of his love, show him how deep it went and watch as Maglor was filled to his satisfaction with it. 

Yet all it took was Maglor cleaning and retuning his harp to drive him mad in return, with tiny gasps and cries, biting his lip as a well-played tune emitted from his harp, his eyes occasionally cast towards Gildor with an impish grin, knowing how very much he was affecting him. He needed not shift Gildor over to see his cock was already hard and ready for him. If he was kind enough to take Gildor into him right now, Gildor would not hesitate, even should the servant woman come in with the tea and witness their union. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Maglor turned back to him, his eyes undressing him, delighting in the cock he could wake so simply. 

Gildor couldn’t explain it. Maglor had not touched him, yet he could play him like any harp, strumming his hair and stroking over his chest, stomach, down to his cock, all with just a look, a bitten lip, a melodic moan. Unashamedly Gildor pleaded with his eyes, hoping to find mercy in his husband. 

But when it seemed Maglor would not give him release, Gildor left to take care of the task himself. He went straight for their bedroom and had stripped himself of his robes, not wishing to stain them, and leaned over their bed with his hand on his cock when he felt arms about him. 

“Why did you leave my side?” Maglor asked sweetly into his ear, his fingers tracing up Gildor’s torso. “I was only getting you ready, love.” His hands ghosted back down, caressing over Gildor’s hands still on his cock. “I haven’t begun tuning _this_ harp yet.”


End file.
